Port

I enjoyed Port much more than Lisbon.  Perhaps because it was a little smaller, or maybe it was a change in mindset: we only went to Lisbon to pickup my parents, whereas Port was the first stop on our roadtrip all together.

We found our hotel without too much trouble.  I had printed out Google directions (we didn't have internet on our cell phones in Portugal), but didn't quite zoom in enough.  Thankfully, Portuguese is fairly similar to Spanish so that at least with directions (right, left, turn, etc.) I was able to understand and be understood.  We had to stop a few times--something that would become a very common event over the course of our trip--and being the navigator, I would jump out of the car and ask the first passerby or nearest shop assistant for directions.

Reception at Porto Riad Guest House

It seems the Portuguese are similar to Spaniards in their very unhelpful way of giving directions!  In Spain, if you've ever asked how to get wherever it is you're going, the answer was most likely "todo recto, al final" (straight ahead, to the end)--beautifully vague.  In Portugal the equivalent answer was "sempre a frente" (keep going straight ahead)!  We heard that phrase so often it became our motto on the trip.  Any time we were doubtful about the road to take, someone would inevitably pipe up with "sempre a frente!"; any lull in the conversation might provoke a spontaneous, "sempre a frente!".
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Our hotel was a lovely old building beautifully deccorated in moorish-style: Porto Riad Guest House.  Surprisingly they allowed pets, which is why I made the booking in the first place.  Our reservations were for one night only, but we decided to ask if there was room for us to stay an additional night.  We were in luck.  Two nights in one place is the only way to enjoy a full day of exploring!

The city hall (I think) was pretty well-maintained

That evening we settled in the dog and then headed out to try some of the "authentic" Port food the receptionist at the hotel recommended to us.  Once again, on our walk down town, we encountered numerous historic buildings with missing windows and pollution-stained facades.  The economic crisis in Portugal is much more severe than in Spain.  The Portuguese received a bailout from the European Union in 2011 and there is talk of the need for a second in the near future.  Perhaps some of the run-down state of the countries cities was due to lack of public funds for upkeep, but these buildings certainly looked very far gone.

At first glance these are beautiful, 19th centurty buildings...

Port is another hilly Portuguese city.  It is perched on bluffs above the mouth of the Douro river.  The Douro, called Duero in Spain, is known for harboring excellent wine country along its shores on both sides of the Spainish/Portuguese border.  We had some great wine from the region with our dinner and decided that we'd save exploring more of the city for the following day--no one was up for hiking around the steep streets more than we needed to get back to our hotel and climb into bed
 

To Bed

I was going to give you all another post about our adventures in Portugal... but my eyes are weary from staring at the computer screen for the last three hours!  Pub California's facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pubcalifornialaroda has been sadly neglected through all the craziness of exams/parents/vacation and so I've been doing my best to get us back "online".

I'm doing my best to come up with some way to attract more attention to our terraza this summer.  Turning the outside seating area into a nice, comfortable, beautiful place to be is no small task...especially when we're on a tight budget!  You saw the pictures of our paint job.  This morning we made a run to Seville to buy a roll of astro-turf (we'd bought another one previously) to lay out front for the tables and chairs--20 square meters of fake grass. :)  And my sister-in-law gave us two beautiful, potted bushes for the entrance.

...Not bad, eh?

Lisbon and Beyond

The whole beach to ourselves!

Our drive up to Lisbon was relatively uneventful.  We opted to drive along the smaller coastal highways instead of taking the interior toll road.  It ended up being the right decision.  The roads weren't too congested, they were in pretty good shape, and we found the most beautiful beach of our entire vacation.

It was around ten in the morning and we were looking for somewhere to let our little dog run (remember she spent the night in the car).  We had walked her bright and early, but being on a leash just isn't the same as getting in a good run.  We turned off the highway following signs to praia Amador.  The beach was gorgeous and nearly completely deserted so early in the morning.  Just a few stray surfers testing the chilly waters.

Bela tries some fresh shellfish in the tidepools...

We spent about an hour running up and down the beach and exploring the tidepools--it was by far the highlight of our day.

Angelines and Bela looking for lunch in Sines

Our lunch break was in Sines.  The waiter at our first restaurant meal, even brought Bela a little dog food snack!  It seemed that the Portuguese really like dogs.  Many people in Spain shy away from even my silly, obviously inoffensive, labrador; whereas in Portugal old women were calling her to them and we never got a dirty look if she accidentally brushed a passerby with her nose or tail.  We briefly explored the city--it was too hot in the middle of the day for much wandering, besides we had a deadline to meet in Lisbon--and then headed north towards the capital.

Lisbon is an impressive city from a distance.  Coming from the south, the masive Tejo river spans before you and the Portuguese capital rises up from the shores on hills not unlike San Francisco.  But for as beautiful as it looked from afar, the city was terribly uncared for.  Ornately tiled facades were falling apart in most places.  Beautiful, historic buildings were dirty, vacant, and missing half their windows.  Derelict apartment buildings stood unabashedly on nearly every corner; and while they looked for all the world as though they'd been deserted decades ago, people with shopping bags or baby carriages were going in and out throughout the day.

I have travelled quite a lot, and not always to the richest of countries; but I was wholly unprepared for the blatant poverty, dishevelment, and apparent lack of pride I found in Lisbon.  I guess I had always (mistakenly) assumed that Portugal would be more like an extension of Spain; something more akin to another State as opposed to another country.  I was shocked to find that everything looked and felt so completely foreign
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We crossed over Ponte Vasco da Gama and after touching base with my parents at their hotel, we headed towards Estaciao Santa Apolonia  where we'd agreed to meet our host for the evening.  I made the night's reservations on Housetrip.com, a website where you can list your property (or rooms in your house) for rent to vacationers.  Our reservations for the night were in a flat in the Alfama neighborhood of Lisbon.

Alfama is the oldest neighborhood in the city.  The rest of Lisbon was destroyed in 1755 after an eathquake and consequent tsunami.  The Alfama is build on a rocky outcropping which made it both more stable during the earthquake and kept it above the water level when the Atlantic swept through the streets in the aftermath.  What Housetrip.com neglected to say was that our flat was on the fourth floor of a very old building (no elevator) with very steep and narrow wooden steps.  The street itself had some 130 steps to get up to the building's front door which meant that in total we had to go up 183 steps to make it to our bed for the evening.

Our building is the last one on the right.

Looking back down the street: through the archway you can see the stairs dropping off toward the main street.

Steep steps?  Four flights of these...and they just got more and more narrow!

Lisbon was in the midst of a heat wave during our visit.  It was around 37 degrees as we followed our host up the narrow stone steps of the Alfama.  The steep wooden steps of our building weren't so bad for us, but poor Bela was slipping and panting like crazy to make it to the top.  That evening and when we left in the morning, I decided it was best to carry her down the stairs.  I am sure she would have tumbled all the way down with just a slight pause on the landings!

Too many stairs!

After all the stairs and the difficulty of finding parking etc.; after the heat of the afternoon and after a full day of driving, Angelines decided not to go out at all that evening.  I explored a little bit after carting my 22 kilo puppy down four flights of stairs.  We wandered through the narrow streets up to the National Pantheon--a beautiful church that was surprisingly enough undergoing some restoration.  I admired the beautiful tiled facades and quaint (though grungy), narrow streets.

The view of our street from one of the tiny windows in the apartment.

 Although we'd barely arrived, neither A or I could wait to get out of the city.  Our small studio apartment, while clean and comfortable was unavoidably noisy.  The neighbors across the street weren't more than a meter and a half away.  The sounds from below seemed to be caught in a kind of echo chamber that ricocheted their way up the walls and into our open windows.  Of course closing the windows wasn't an option because when you're staying on the fourth floor of an un-airconditioned building, even the outside temp of 37º feels cool.  All that said, I do feel as though Angelines and I got an unfair impression of the city.  Seeing my parents' pictures makes me wish that we'd had more time to explore... perhaps unincumbered by the dog.

The following day we didn't get a chance to see any more of the city.  We picked up my mom at the hotel around ten and headed out to find beach access where we could let Bela play.  The beach was nothing exceptional, but we did find a nice, big park where we ate our mid-day sandwiches and killed time waiting for my dad to finish up his Rotary obligations.  By two o'clock we had picked him up, squeezed ourselves into our "big" car, and were on our way via toll roads (faster) to Port.

...To be continued. ;)

Baby Steps

Some days you just have to measure in baby steps: today I did the laundry, or finished organizing the cabinets, etc.  Some days the morning flys by and before you know it it's nine in the evening and you don't have much to show for it.  Some days the bigger problems overshadow everything else and you just can't seem to appreciate the little daily achievements that really do make a difference.

Today was one of those days for me.  This morning Angelines and I got up at eight and headed to the bar.  I rode my bike and took a little detour to walk the dog along the way.  The plan was to paint wall of the neighboring building (the owner refused to, but gave us permission to do so) that borders the outside seating area of the bar.  This is part of our efforts to make a nice summer terraza.

By 11:30 we were done... 

The wall looks great, as you can see in the pictures; yet by day's end I was feeling like all of this was worthless and the day had been a waste: nothing accomplished.  The bigger problems had moved in like storm clouds.  Problems with the business license, nit-picky students, money...  I decided to blog these pictures mostly so that this little baby step wouldn't be forgotten, especially by me!

Half way finished...I forgot to get a pic before we started!

The dream team bats clean-up.

Few of the day's other baby steps include:

• giving myself a haircut
• sticking down door-stoppers upstairs
• hanging the shower basket for our shampoos (A had to do it all over again after I mistakenly measured and consequently drilled the four holes in our beautiful bathroom tiles!)
• putting in new shelves between our large wardrobes

...So it's good to remember that the day wasn't a complete waste.  Here's to keeping things in perspective.

A Piece of Paradise

It's ten after nine in the evening.  The sun is low on the horizon and my eastern facing patio is cool and shady.  I'm sitting out in one of our beach chairs sipping Rioja and listening to the Forest Gump soundtrack.  Bela is panting at my side; we just got back from a bike ride/walk.  Angelines is having a beer and working on her computer, too.

...My own piece of paradise. :)

And now for a little back-blogging:

The Rotary convention ended on Wednesday the 24 so A and I were on our own for Monday and Tuesday.  We wanted to spend Tuesday night, however, in Lisbon so that we'd be there and ready to head out Wed. afternoon.  After my exams on Saturday, I had dedicated myself to looking for and booking hotels, hostals, houses that allowed dogs.  The first half of our trip was booked, except one day and I figured we could do research on the road for the last few nights.

Bela's ready for the road!

Monday night's reservation was in a casa rural in Monchique, Portugal.  We had arranged to meet with the woman at six in the afternoon.  She sent directions to the house and we eventually found it: down an impossibly steep hillside in the middle of nowhere...  We were a bit early, but it seemed no one was home.  I cautiously went round back of the house to see if the owner was outside.  Behind the house were three soiled twin matresses strew on the ground, clothes and towels lying about, children's toys, shoes and socks.  Needless to say the first impression wasn't a good one.  I made my way through unkept planter boxes to the very back where a sheet of paper was taped to the door of what looked to be another little cottage: Casa Mel was scrawled in children's handwriting complete with smiley face stickers.  ...This was the right place.

Welcome to Portugal.  Algarve is the Southern region.

Angelines had stayed up at the car with the dog.  How was I going to tell her I'd made reservations at a dive in the middle of nowhere!  As I was asking the neighbors if they knew where the owners were, Angelines took a look around back.  Staying in this hole wasn't my idea of a great way to start the vactaion...but where else would we go?  One look at A's face when she came back through the gate, and I knew we had to get out of there fast.  "I'd rather sleep in the car than here!" was all she said.  I agreed and we decided to get out of there before the owner made her appearance.  Thankfully, I hadn't put any money down to make the reservation.

Just as we were pulling out a Jeep came roaring down the one-lane, dirt road and came to an abrupt stop outside the house--the owner.  Neither of us wanted to stay at this point, much less for the agreed on price: 55 euros!  I decided to make up a quick lie that friends had called us from Portimao (the nearest city on the coast) and we were going to meet them last minute.  I apologized for making her come out there for nothing and we drove back up the ridiculously steep road as fast as we could.

A potty break in Caldas de Monchique...where we thought the house was.

Both of us were grateful to have escaped a night at the "Bates Hotel" as my dad would later call it, but the problem remained: where would we stay?  It was nearly seven by the time we'd made our way back down to Portimao.  We set out blindly looking for a place to stay the night.  Thinking the coast would be full of hotels we headed to the beach.  Everything we saw was closed, empty or in terrible condition.  After getting turned around in the city center, where not a single traffic light was functioning, we made our way to a gas station and asked for directions to a campground we'd seen adversised on the way in.  Even the campground was a shot in the dark, however, because "campgrounds" in Europe are more like RV parks and they don't necesarrily allow dogs.

We got our directions (the attendant spoke some English) and headed on our way.  Just as we were leaving town, I saw a sign that read: Pousada da Juventud.  "Turn here!" I shouted; and thankfully, Angelines is a very compliant driver and veered off to the right even as she was asking "WHY!?"  We followed the signs and arrived at a very nice Hostaling International Youth Hostal.  They didn't allow dogs, but a private double room for the night was 30 euros with breakfast included.  

We played ball with Bela until the car was in the shade, then fed her and got her settled in for the night.  I made a tortilla de atún and we had dinner on our own private veranda.  It was a beautiful little place: clean and cheery, a far cry from Casa Mel.  

Hallelujah! 

The next morning when we asked at the front desk when the 8:30 breakfast would be served--it was 8:35--we realized that Portuguese time is an hour behind Spain's!  That explained (somewhat) the disheveled house we'd found the day before; but still we were thankful not to have stayed there.  We decided not to wait an hour for breakfast, hit the road early and eat sandwiches in the car.

 

...Thus began our Portuguese adventure.

All Good Things...

This morning at 1:45am, my parents boarded the plane back to CA.  My mom mistakenly booked the flight thinking that it left at 1:45pm... but in the end it turned out to be a very nice time to leave.  We spent a leisurely day at home and had a nice, home-cooked last lunch.  There was time for a siesta, making bocadillos for the plane, and all of our good-byes.  We packed up the car and headed to Malaga at about nine in the evening in order to take advantage of their coastal departure and have one last seafood meal before heading back to land-locked Plumas County.

It was a wonderful way to end a wonderful visit.  Though it was strange for me as I drove home from Malaga.  My parents have been here now for just over a month.  We'd fallen into a routine.  As my mom, puts it, they became part of daily life--not just visitors.  That might sound like a euphemism, but really it was fabulous to have them here, and not just because they helped us with more than half a dozen home improvement tasks either!

It had become so normal to have them here, that there was a part of me that expected to be getting on the plane and heading back to Sierra Valley myself.  This visit really has been a collision of my two worlds in a most beautiful (and I'll admit, somewhat unexpected) way.

My parents haven't come to Spain for four years--since my wedding.  That visit was of course fairly hecktic and far from relaxing.  And in these four years my life has changed quite a lot.  I have made new friends, lost some old ones, and seen some of my first students graduate high school.  I have become a part of daily life in La Roda rather than being simply a visitor myself.  At the same time, this place has become more a part of me, too.  The fact that I feel more at home here now than the other times that my parents have visited was part of what made this visit so relaxing; I was at home, and so were they.

So although I pulled away from the curb at Pablo Picasso International Airport feeling as though I should have been checking in and going "home" too, I was happy to be heading back inland to my dog, my wife, our house and our life.

A Record Low!

Never in the history of this blog have I ever gone a full 36 days without a post.  Can I say much other than, "I'm sorry"?  And you're all wondering why I haven't been blogging when you know that my private classes are out for the summer and my exams ended in June...  Hasn't my life calmed down some?  Believe it or not, it hasn't.  The craziness has just manifested itself differently. ;)

A quick run-down:

My parents arrived June 12.
Friends from Belgium arrived on the 17.
My parents and Belguim guests left on the 20.
My university exams were that Saturday the 22.
On Monday the 24, Angelines and I packed up a small suitcase and our dog, rented a car and headed to Portugal to meet my parents who were finishing up with the Rotary International Convention in Lisbon!

Internet was scarce over the 10 days of our vacation and now that we're back Angelines and I are doing our best to take advantage of the extra help (and my dad's handy man abilities) to do such home improvement tasks as installing screen doors, and painting the railing in the patio.  My dad's vocabulary has grown to include such words as broca (drill bit), tornillo (screw), taladro (drill), brocha (paint brush)... you get the idea.

...So, happily, I have many wonderful and FUN excuses for not blogging.  How's that for a change?

I do promise some meaty posts about our adventures, but for now I'll leave you with this small apology and these pictures as a preview.

Our favorite beach in Portugal: Praia Amador  on the southwestern coast.

Bela's first time in the Atlantic Ocean...but not her last by far! ;)